


Existentialism on Prom Night

by alessandralee



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to a stitch, Kirsten develops a residual attachment to prom, then she and Cameron end up at one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Existentialism on Prom Night

“Those are prom dresses,” Camille observes, peeking over Kirsten’s shoulder at her computer screen.

Reflexively, Kirsten closes the webpage. She should have been paying better attention. Whether it’s at home or at work, Camille has no respect for privacy.

“Really, it’s just formalwear,” Kirsten responds, glad Camille wasn’t there then minutes ago when she was prommagazine.com. “No specific occasion.”

Still, Camille doesn’t seem to buy her excuse.

“Aren’t you a little old for prom?” she teases. “Unless…” the gears in her mind click into place, “it’s residual emotion from the stitch.”

Of course, those words come out of her mouth at the exact moment Linus walks by.

“What’s the residual emotion form the stitch?” he asks already waving Cameron over from across the room.

Camille at least has the decency to wait until everyone’s assembled before tattling.

“Kirsten’s looking at prom dresses,” she explains. “And since no one over the age of eighteen has any use for that, I’m guess it’s left over from a certain seventeen year old whose brain she’s being hanging out in lately.”

“Jazz Simone?” Cameron asks, “Is that true?” He seems overly concerned over a few web searches.

“Probably,” Kirsten shrugs. The prom-themed wall collage and five different Pinterest boards that she saw in the stitch didn’t warrant a mention at the time, but it certainly makes more sense than this being an interest she developed on her own.

And anyway, it’s not like she’s actually at risk of blowing $200 on a gown she has no reason to wear, even if some of them are actually kind of nice.

 

“I remember my prom,” Camille sighs wistfully and perches on the edge of Kirsten’s desk. 

When Linus and Cameron pull up chairs, Kirsten knows this is going turn into another over-share session. Unfortunately, she can’t think of a reason to excuse herself.

“Mine was nice,” Linus admits. “Nothing too crazy though. I went with some friends, and we thought it would be fun if we all rented powder blue tuxes.” Camille laughs at that bit of information. “What? It was ironic,” he defends himself.

“It was lame,” Camille assures him. “Not my prom was a huge cliché. We snuck a few flasks, and I got caught hooding up with the captain of the soccer team in the girl’s bathroom.” She grins, “Oh Riley DaCosta, I wonder how you’ve turned out.”

Their reminiscing over with, Linus and Camille look expectantly from Cameron to Kirsten.

“I didn’t go to prom,” Kirsten eventually admits, if only because she knows it’s the only way to keep them from probing her about it.

“Me neither,” Cameron echoes.

“I mean, why waste hundreds of dollars to put on a dress I’ll only wear once and suffer through even more time with people I didn’t like,” Kirsten says.

Camille rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath that Kirsten can’t hear, but knows must be disparaging.

“I couldn’t get a date,” Cameron admits. “And I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular, so… I didn’t go.”

“Oh, now that’s just sad,” Camille leans over a ruffles Cameron’s hair. “Thank god you have us to save you from a lonely adulthood.”

“Yeah, what would I do without you,” Cameron mutters sarcastically.

“I have a serious answer for that,” Camille tells him.

He immediately cuts her off, “Spare me.”

Before Camille can get another word in, Cameron returns his borrowed chair to the table he took it from and returns to his workstation. Linus follows after him.

As soon as the two of them are out of sight, Camille lets out a low whistle.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she tells Kirsten conspiratorially, “I’d say Cam’s still a little bitter over high school.”

“Well then it’s a good thing you know better,” Kirsten responds. She’s not sure why, but talking about this behind Cameron’s back makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable. “He’s head scientist on a multi-billion dollar NSA project. I’m sure no one from high school can top that.”

\--

There’s something incredibly satisfying about watching a murderer get arrested, so of course Kirsten drags Cameron to St. Genevieve High School to watch Detective Fisher do the honors.

And of course this happens on prom night.

Cameron’s gotten so used to all these out of office field trips that, aside from protesting that they’re kind of under-dressed to crash a high school prom, he doesn’t really put up a fuss. It wouldn’t do much good.

After all, the police will be there. The two of them will just be watching. As far as adventures with Kirsten go, this is pretty tame.

He gets a kick out of watching the guilty gym teacher sputter and try to lie his way out of this. Then he gets angry and stars raving like some Scooby Doo villain.

But then Mr. Shelby is off and running, straight towards the emergency exit Kirsten and Cameron are standing next to.

Cameron knows better than to assume Kirsten will let the cops handle it. He’s actually surprised when she opts to just trip the guy with one leg, instead of tackling him the ground.

Thank goodness for small miracles.

With the exception of a brief, “Stay out of any more trouble,” Fisher ignores them as he hauls the gym teacher out to a waiting car.

It takes the school principal a few minutes to calm everyone down, but the threat of cancelling prom halfway through the night seems to do the trick.

Kirsten pulls Cameron out the gym doors, into a dimly lit hallway. The closed doors block out enough music that the pair can talk to each other without screaming. And more importantly, there’s a table full of punch and snacks waiting to be taken to the gym.

“Well that was certainly a night to remember,” Cameron jokes, pointing to a sign with that exact slogan on it.

“If my prom had included a visit from the police, maybe I would have considered going,” Kirsten agrees.

“Even though you hated everyone you went to school with?” Cameron asks.

“Just the students,” Kirsten clarifies. “And the principal. And maybe half of the teachers.”

“Well weren’t you just Little Miss Sunshine,” Cameron teases.

She shrugs, “Do you really think it would have been fun? Prom?”

Cameron peeks back through the windows in the gym doors. It's nothing like that rave Kirsten dragged him to a few months ago, but no one seems to be miserably lurking along the walls.

“With the right people,” he tells her.

Granted, he didn’t meet the right people until well after high school.

Kirsten sighs like he’s inconvenienced her for some reason, “Well in that case, I’m giving you five minutes of prom.”

“What?” Cameron asks, confused.

“One dance,” she says, “since we’re already here.”

Cameron just gapes at her. He’s an adult; it’s a little weird to be dancing at a high school prom.

And it someone caught them, it would be more than a little embarrassing.

But when Kirsten holds out her hand, he takes it, sliding the other one across her back.

They sway back and forth to some slow song neither one of them has ever heard, and even though they probably look silly, neither of them really minds.

“See, prom isn’t so bad,” Cameron whispers in Kirsten ear.

Holding her close, he can feel her chuckle just as much as he can hear it.

“You’re a better dancer than I remember,” she tells him.

He pulls back a bit to look her in the eye and smile.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Stretch.”

One song turns into two, and neither one of them makes a move to pull away. Prom probably wouldn’t have been like this when they were students, but as adults, it’s actually kind of nice.

The next song is a fast one, though, and Cameron can’t bring himself to endure that embarrassment again without the cover of a crowd.

“Ready to hit the road?” he asks.

“Sure,” Kirsten nods, swiping a handful of chips off the table.

Casually, not really thinking about what he’s doing, Cameron slings an arm over her shoulder and pulls Kirsten up against him as they walk out to his car. He blushes as soon as he realizes what he’s done, but Kirsten doesn’t pull away, so he leaves it there.

Maybe it is a night to remember.


End file.
